


Impulse

by Aonashe



Category: Historical RPF, Political RPF - Russian 20th c.
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Sexual Content, Filthy, I literally want to die, M/M, One Shot, Unresolved Tension, probably not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aonashe/pseuds/Aonashe
Summary: Vladimir Lenin and Joseph Stalin's relationship had grown strained and hostile over the years, the former realizing what Stalin really was and what he was trying to do. But yet he keeps shamefully meeting with him.(I am so sorry)
Relationships: Vladimir Lenin/Joseph Stalin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Impulse

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: All scenarios depicted in this work are pure fiction. This is crack and not to be taken seriously.

His eyes felt stitched together, his mouth hanging open to let a small grunt escape as he turned over on his side. There was still evidence of Joseph all over him, and when he continued to shuffle in a miserable attempt to get out of bed, it leaked out of him. Vladimir grimaced at the feeling, still incredibly sore from the night before, and thumped his head back down onto the red stained pillows. His labored breathing made the pillow damp, and soon he couldn't stand how much it reminded him of when he was panting, groaning his name, gripping at the sheets--

Abruptly, he picked his head off the pillows and swore at the pang of pain that rushed through him when he rubbed the back of his head. Eventually, he rolled out of bed with his sheets still clinging to him as he struggled to walk upright. Every time they did this, his walk was never quite the same for a few days. The door felt a lot heavier than usual when he pushed against it, and instead of flinging open like it usually did, it only cracked open enough for him to slip through. 

Again he swore as his hand steadied him on the rim of the sink. He looked up to meet his reflection's stare, his eyes narrowing. His tongue flicked over his lips as he scowled. 

"Third time this month," he said aloud to himself, "of you whoring yourself to him." 

His reflection taunted him. Mechanically, his hand ran over his receding hair and wondered why he was even bothering with pleasing him. And most importantly, why he almost _liked_ it. He could see himself reddening scornfully in the mirror at that thought, so his eyes swept downward, watching his fingers stay on the rim. Pondering.

-

They were on the floor. Vladimir's head made a sickening crack on the floor as he fell, feeling warm blood seep into his hair. However, he was more concerned with Joseph's tongue down his throat. 

"You're bleeding," Joseph rasped in a matter-of-fact tone, "here--"

"Shut up," Vladimir shushed him with his lips and tugged him in by his ascot, the contact making him shudder. Joseph's kisses became more hesitant, but he didn't care, the touch felt as if it was patching up the pulsing pain in his skull. 

Eventually Joseph pulled him back by his hair, causing Vladimir to gasp in pain. "Sit up." 

He did as he was told, but Vladimir still tried to kiss him when Joseph was trying to get out of his undershirt, obviously to stop the bleeding, but Vladimir saw it as an invitation to get at the exposed flesh. 

"Fuck me on the floor," he begged, muffled against the other man's chest. Joseph ignored him and started to place firm pressure against the bleeding, not exactly trying to be gentle. The pain made him dizzier than he would've liked to admit. 

He clutched the shirt around his head, taking in Joseph's scent. "Why don't you make me feel better?" he teased. He just wanted to get this desire over with. It would be weeks before Joseph would come to him again. With one hand still holding the shirt, he grabbed Joseph's hand and yanked him closer. Joseph huffed and shifted so that their bodies weren't touching--an impressive feat, no doubt, but that wasn't what he wanted. 

"Be rough," Vladimir growled in his ear as he pushed him down into the bed, straddling him. "Make me scream." 

Vladimir threw the shirt to the floor before pulling Joseph up and reversing their positions, his legs stretched lazily over the other's shoulders. 

"Look, you're getting blood all over the place," Joseph said, obviously annoyed.

"Fuck me until I can't see," Vladimir was growing increasingly tired of his hesitance. He was running out of ways to beg Joseph to fuck him, as terrible as they were. Muttering curses under his breath, he opened his own shirt himself. It was one of his favorite parts when they did this, when Joseph would slowly, teasingly open his shirt, but now it's ruined. It was still clinging to his other arm, but he thought it was enough. Joseph just stared at him bemusedly. 

"I don't often say it, but God you need some self contro--" Vladimir silenced him with a hot tongue along his throat. He still tried to talk, but his usual forwardness was reduced to mumbles laced with obscenities. "Vladimir," he drawled in a low voice. 

Vladimir purred against his neck as the other absently ran his hands through his hair, met with a sticky redness that made Vladimir groan despite himself. Another hand around his waist clamped down like a vice, drawing another stifled groan. Soon enough, his wish was granted, with Joseph harshly throwing him onto his stomach with his hips being brought forward. 

He pulled Vladimir's pants down to his knees, obviously growing just as impatient. A spit-slickened finger pushed roughly inside of him, making Vladimir shut his eyes and grit his teeth. 

"Beg for it," Joseph growled. 

Vladimir was all too pleased to oblige him. "For the love of god, fuck me Joseph, _please._ " 

He leaned over and snarled into his ear, biting the cartilage. "Little slut, aren't you?" 

It was only the second finger that made him cry out that he was, that he loved this, that he craved more. His hips bucked against the intruding fingers, the friction of them pumping inside him making his eyes water. He held onto the back of his head, trying to soothe the pain that every thrust made worse. 

"Head split right the fuck open and yet he still begs me to plow his cunt," he could hear Joseph muttering behind him in an attempt to humiliate him further. Vladimir sighed and his eyes fluttered as he heard the unmistakable sounds of Joseph undoing his belt. 

"Stick in it me..." Vladimir blushed as the words tumbled from his lips. The tip of Joseph's length rutted against his opening, tormenting him. Vladimir suppressed the need to shout, instead pushing his hips back against his cock in a vain attempt to force it in. Soon, one quick, fluid thrust snatched the breath away from him. He let out a loud, long groan into the sheets, the blood painting his vision a dark red. 

"Shameless," Joseph said, pulling on his hair, clearly enjoying the grunts of pain from his fingertips pressing into the gash in Vladimir's scalp. His other hand teased the other's cock, painfully hard and completely neglected. Vladimir had a love-hate relationship with Joseph forcing him to completion without even touching him. 

Joseph firmly planted his hands into the sheets to either side of his head as he picked up a quick, unforgiving rhythm. Vladimir's moans hitched in his throat, instead coming out in jerky, shallow gasps. The last thing he needed was to pass out from the pain, lack of air, and Joseph hitting him _there._ Joseph's grip around his hips dug in so deep that he was almost certain he'd have bruises in the morning. 

The Georgian leaned over his shoulder and sank his bite down into his shoulder. Vladimir immediately cried out, feeling the tears of pain and pleasure being forced out of him. Their sessions were so few and far between that every time felt like the first, not helped by the fact that Joseph never prepared him enough. However that was at the back of his mind when Joseph filled him, at least his body was generous enough to let him adjust to his thick length. All thoughts of anything other than getting himself off was dumped out of his brain. "Ah! You're--fuck, again, _please!"_

"Do _what_ again, Vladimir?" Joseph growled low in his ear. He was playing the game that he knew Vladimir would never admit he loved. 

Vladimir opened his mouth to speak, but Joseph pushed his face down into the pillows, damp with blood. He tugged his hips closer to him and started pounding into him with unrestrained force. It made Vladimir's knees weak, sending tremors throughout his entire body. The sheets clung to his chest and abdomen, sticky with sweat, as Joseph hauled him to his hands and knees. 

"You like this so much," Joseph chided behind him, squeezing his ass, "look at you. Keening like a bitch in heat." 

Vladimir normally would have been insulted if it didn't make his stomach churn with ecstasy. The obscene slapping of skin against skin, his impulsive moans at every thrust, Joseph's own husky grunts--

"So much," Vladimir mindlessly panted, "so much, Joseph, _fuck--"_ His head started to throb at the worst possible time. He knew Joseph was going to fuck him into the mattress. 

"Turn over," Joseph demanded. 

Vladimir's protests were lodged in his throat. He hated when Joseph made him look at him while he was practically re-arranging his insides. It reminded him too much that this was utterly filthy, that this was Joseph Stalin of all people pumping inside him. 

When he took too long debating himself, Joseph flipped him over himself. Vladimir reluctantly looked up at Joseph's steely-eyed gaze while he brought his fingers under Vladimir's chin to ensure that he kept looking at him. Soon, Vladimir was holding onto him for dear life as he started to pick up the pace again. 

" _Premier,"_ Joseph teased, "you are so very generous to me." 

Vladimir felt himself ignite with a blaze of frustration at this, his mood crashing and burning as the thoughts he had desperately pushed away for the time being flooded back. He had an infinite amount of authority over Stalin, he could shut this down at any moment. But he never does, using his dangerous behavior as an excuse. He detested how right he was, and more importantly, how eager he was to let his bane overpower him so easily. The very thing that was threatening everything he stood for.

"And I waste so much on you, _General Secretary,"_ he hissed, hiccuped by moans. It was true. He was letting him use his influence, his status, and now his body. Joseph trailed down to his ear and nibbled at it, drawing a wanton mewl from the Prime Minister. 

Vladimir tightened around him, feeling the ticklish press of his tongue slipping inside his ear. He squirmed under him, but Joseph held him down with his larger frame, his breath hot in his ear: "Oh, you're so _tight._ And so vocal and sensitive and fucking tempting." 

He just had to tremble with his voice so low in his ear, telling him how much of a slut he was. A part of him wanted to crawl in a hole and die of shame, but the other part wanted this to last forever. 

Vladimir was growing impatient again, longing for that temporary relief of closure that always comes at the end. Practically driven mad by his own frustration, he grabbed his ascot and slurred into his ear, "You're close...aren't you, Joseph? Go ahead. Come inside of me." 

Joseph couldn't help but chuckle sadistically against him, yanking up his chin and catching his lips in a fury of teeth and rage. They kissed and clutched at each other like drowning men, taking out all of their rage on each other. Suddenly, Joseph released the kiss with a thin trail of saliva still connecting them. He held onto Vladimir's hips and rocked against him, out of rhythm, his expression utterly consumed with lust and power. 

"Yes!" Vladimir hissed. "Hurry up. Finish, mark me, get it over with," No wonder why Joseph told him he was such a whore. 

He felt like his length was digging even deeper than before, disappearing so impossibly far inside of him, hitting that place inside him over and over again. Joseph held onto his shoulders and gave one more thrust, snarling as he emptied his balls inside the Premier of the Soviet Union. Vladimir's mouth hung open in a silent scream while he felt the searing heat seeking refuge inside him. 

Joseph pulled out once soft, making sure that not a single drop escaped. Almost immediately after, Vladimir felt the weight on top of him get off his body. 

"You wouldn't happen to have an extra shirt somewhere, hm? Since you bled all over mine." 

Vladimir crumbled into the bed, wrapping the sheets around him. "Somewhere," He said, finally gaining some composure, "but surely you own more than one shirt." 

Joseph snorted and buttoned up his jacket, which had been laying discarded on the floor. "You might want to seek medical attention for your gash. I'm sure you wouldn't want anyone to see you with your head cracked like a walnut." 

Vladimir dismissed him with a shaking head, not finding the energy to reply to him. As soon as the door closed with that familiar click, he turned on his back again and let his hand snake down to his still throbbing and weeping member. Resentfully, he leaned over the bed and snatched Joseph's now ruined shirt, still with that unmistakable sent of him on it. He brought it up and buried his nose into it as he furiously stroked himself. 

"He is such an arrogant, selfish man--deplorable, disloyal, traitor..."

It was only a couple tugs before he came on his stomach with a hollow sob. 

The silence following hung in the air, more dense than he ever remembered it feeling every other time. He remembered when all those years ago he highly regarded Joseph, but now he realizes that he had brought a snake into his bed. He needed to stop this, needed to have him removed somehow, he's too unreliable, too influential, too dangerous.

This man would be the death of him. 


End file.
